I’m not a fan of autumn. Halloween is not a favorite holiday. But over 10 years ago I wrote this poem on a pumpkin. A Halloween Nightmare You’re one step away from the doorstep. You take that step and suddenly— You’re in a dark, forbidding forest. Branches wave in the frigid wind. They look like fingers reaching— Reaching to tear life from you. It grows darker and colder. The forest is lit by only the white moon. A high, sharp cackle fills the air. You shiver and turn about. Nothing. Where am I, you wonder. An eerie silence falls. Then a howl breaks that silence. A shriek fills the air…
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A Starry Night
When I was nine, I wrote my first poem. It was for my dad for Father’s Day because, being nine, I didn’t actually have any money to buy him anything. But I wanted to give him something special. So, I ventured into the realm of poetry writing, not really knowing what it was. I wrote it out on a piece of white paper and created a paper frame decorated with stars of all sizes. I don’t remember much after that, but I know my dad displayed it for a while. In honor of Father’s Day, here is that poem. And a Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there.…
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To Bear: A Commentary on Mass Shootings in the United States Part 3 (Where is the Action for Change?) and The Hollow Men…
Hello Everyone! I’m writing a comment on the current state of the response to mass shootings by our government(s) and our society, and a providing the well known poem The Hollow Men for reflection. I’ll just ask what has been accomplished besides the protests? Where is the action that was openly discussed in front of the world in response to the recent shooting? Empty words? Do we need to have more deaths? Sandy Hook (20 children between the ages of 6 and 7 died there)..Parkland…next…Do more children have to die before any action is taken? I hate to admit it, but I think the answer has arrived today (now yesterday)…
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The Last Will and Testament of Patrick Malone
Patrick Malone died a week ago. He was a wealthy man with three grown children. He had been a politician in his younger days. But as he grew older, he began to become senile. He consulted his lawyer and drew up a will, which he hid somewhere on his property. The will left everything to the one who found his will. The day of the funeral arrived. The church was full of everyone who had known him from preschool to the nurses and doctors who had treated him. His wife had passed on several years before. His youngest child and only daughter, Abigail Una Malone, sat away from everyone else…
